


In defence of never having been a boyscout

by Eris18



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Havelock Vetinari has long hair, Havelock Vetinari has way more knives on his person than you could ever imagine, Havelock Vetinari is a parkour master, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild gymnastics, Samuel Vimes is angry at everything, Sarcasm, Well...sort of. At this point for these guys it's more "unplanned accommodation change"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eris18/pseuds/Eris18
Summary: Sam and Vetinari would probably count this as a successful holiday.





	In defence of never having been a boyscout

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone can help me figure out how to make the footnotes do the thing, that would be greatly appreciated.

Sam, being who he was, had long since become used to odd situations, and being in them[1]. It was for this reason, and his general cynicism toward the world, that meant that he could take his current circumstances pretty well.

He took in his surroundings; it was your typical cell, really. Three walls of stone, one of bars, dripping water noises, patches of mould, the Patrician swinging from his legs, back and forth in Sam’s eyeline[2]. Nothing out of the ordinary for your common-or-garden prisoner situation, for the Commander of the Watch.

They had been travelling back from Uberwald, Sam remembered. Vetinari had occasion to make a rare visit to Margolotta, and had insisted that Sam come as his bodyguard. The fact that it had been a chance for the two of them to travel alone together with minimal prying eyes and gossip-ready mouths was a bonus. Sybil had, unfortunately, been unable to come; there were a few dragons ready to lay, and she needed to stay and keep an eye to make sure everything went smoothly.

The train journey up, and the visit itself, had been incident-free. Margolotta was...terrifying and brilliant[3], and more than welcoming for her guests. She had even arranged for the two men to share lodgings ‘for security reasons’[4]. All in all, it had been a good, quiet few days...despite being surrounded by vampires[5].

It was on the journey back when trouble found them[6]. Sam and Vetinari were sharing a quiet night in their cabin[7], when the train had juddered to a halt. This hadn’t stopped them, thought they had been thrown from the bunk to the floor with the sudden stop. However, the sounds of voices and their names being mentioned outside the cabin did.

They had put up the usual cursory fight when the men had burst in with clubs, but it was best to allow the kidnappers to take them and put them wherever; it was easier to escape than to come back to life, after all[8].

“Commander,” Vetinari said, still swinging as he tried to free himself from the knots holding him up. His hair was coming loose from the neat ponytail that usually held it together; Sam’s eye caught the odd strand obeying gravity; it distracted him slightly[9], until he realised that the Patrician had spoken.

“Vetinari,” he replied.

“My good man,” Vetinari said. “You wouldn’t have, as yet, formed an escape plan, would you? I feel the blood going to my head in a rather non-medically sound manner, which may need to be dealt with soon.”

“They even took my _backup_ lockpicks, the bastards,” Sam responded, “so no.”

Vetinari stopped for a second, and unrolled to look at Sam, albeit upside down.

“Backup lockpicks?” Vetinari seemed surprised. “Commander, do you have hobbies that you and I need to discuss?”

“Leave it,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Sybil sorted them out because I keep getting kidnapped.”

“And you know how to use them?” Vetinari asked.

“I’m from the Shades,” was Sam’s reply, and he said no more.

Vetinari rolled himself back up and started working at the knots again. Sam would have helped, but the height made it rather impossible for someone of his stature[10]. And so, he was once again presented with the sight of the occasional loose wisp.

He heard Vetinari sigh, then grunt; suddenly, there was a small ‘snick!’, and Vetinari landed in a crouched position[11] with a quiet exhale. The Patrician straightened up, presenting Sam with a small stiletto.

“Will this help, Commander?” Vetinari asked, rolling his shoulders slightly.

“I’d need another one, and-” he found a second stiletto pressed into his hands, “...wait. Did you have these on you the whole time?”

Vetinari said nothing; his only response was to untie the ribbon from his hair, gather up the loose ends, and secure the lot into a once again neat ponytail. The Patrician smoothed down some loose strands at the front, and then stood in front of Sam, tall and graceful.

“Commander,” he said eventually. “I had to be sure that no one was watching. After all, it would be politically inexpedient to reveal that one has various weapons on one’s person. They would be removed. Also, those are my favourite knives. I would not want to lose them to the hands of such people.”

“...Various...weapons?” Sam asked, standing up and carefully hooking the knives into his belt.

“...Yes,” Vetinari admitted.

“How many?” Sam asked. There was no response; Vetinari seemed to be staring off into the distance, his eyes glazed over as he stood absolutely still. “How _many_ , Vetinari?”

Vetinari, in a rare show of actual emotion[12], flashed Sam a quick scowl. However, it was quickly schooled into a trademark arched eyebrow.

“I am _counting_ ,” he replied. "Accuracy seems to be important to you in this matter." Then, after a pause, he said, “...Twelve, Commander.”

“...You could have bloody fought them off on the train,” Sam growled. “But you couldn’t be bothered?! That’s just like you, standing by and expecting others to do the real work!”

“...I...” Vetinari closed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking pained. “...I did not want them to hurt you, Sa-Commander.”

Sam’s anger seemed to evaporate as quickly as it had descended[13]. Vetinari was...worried about him?

Sometimes Sam forgot that, despite the cool exterior, Vetinari did, occasionally, feel things. Usually these feelings were only showcased in small smiles at Sybil and Sam in the evenings, or similar tiny gestures. But...to admit that he was scared for Sam?

“...Condescending bastard,” Sam said, “I knocked at least three of them out at the time, didn’t I[14]?”

“We can discuss your casual disregard for your own life at another time, Commander,” Vetinari said[15]. “If you would kindly use the knives I have given you to get us free. I promise that I will put the other ten to good purpose, should we meet anyone during our escape.”

And with that, Sam turned to the cell door. Time to put his Cockbill Street skills to good use.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

There was no fanfare upon their return to Ankh-Morpork, given that four hours in a cell couldn’t really count as a proper kidnapping[16]. Sybil listened to their story as if it were a normal part of a holiday[17], and then made a pot of tea before herding the two of them into a bath, and then bed.

It was a few days later, when Sam made his usual rounds to the Oblong Office[18], that Vetinari presented him with a small box. Sam opened it to find a high-quality set of lockpicks, wrapped in linen cloth and set in a leather pouch that could clip to his belt.

“You may be from the Shades, Commander,” the Patrician said, “but that is no excuse to not have a good set of equipment available at all times. I expect you to be ready to set us both free whenever necessary. That is, after all, part of your job.”

“...Bastard,” Sam muttered, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Vetinari’s lips[19]. “Stop getting kidnapped, and I won’t need them.”

“Oh, but Sam,” and Vetinari arched an eyebrow. “Where would the fun be in _that_?”

* * *

1 See: all of the Watch series. The author would mention particular individual instances, but she wants to get on with the fic and not list the entire plot of every book.

2 Had Sia been a thing on the Disc, Sam may have started humming, just to piss the Patrician off a bit.

3 Sam took more than a little notice that this seemed to be a recurring theme for the women in his life, albeit they each embodied these adjectives in individual and wonderful ways.

4 There had a bloody twinkle in her eyes even as she said this, Sam _knew_ there had.

5 Sam was trying, but when you were in a country full of something that terrified you, sometimes the old prejudices just...happened. He had, however, been courteous and polite and as diplomatic as he knew how. He wasn’t an idiot.

6 Statistically, it had been time, after all.

7 Read: committing acts that Nuggan would find really rather abominable. Thankfully, neither of them subscribed to that particular religious tenet.

8 Even in Uberwald.

9 It distracted him a _lot_. Vetinari’s hair was a thing of beauty, really, and Sam felt privileged that he was witness to the times when it hung loose.

10 That, and he was sitting down with his back to the wall. It was as comfortable as he was going to get, and he - quite frankly - couldn’t be bothered to move when the Patrician was damned well capable of sorting himself out.

11 Of course he did, the acrobatic bastard.

12 This shocked Sam more than anything else, really. Vetinari was usually so stoic.

13 And this was Sam , so his anger was always there. Right next to the Summoning Dark, taunting it and giving it the finger.

14 Sam was rightfully smug about this, given that they had been young and fit, and he was a chain-smoking recovering alcoholic in his 50s.

15 Anyone else would have actually rolled their eyes; Vetinari allowed his words to do the eyerolling for him.

16 At least, not for these two.

17 It was, after all.

18 Read: Vetinari had said that Sam wanted an immediate appointment.

19 Risky as they were at work, but Sam was a) working on instinct, and b) Vetinari was surprisingly kissable.


End file.
